"The Horrors...The Horrors..." 

or Christmas in the Suburbs ain't what it used to be (a dark tale)

Okay, so usually people move from the city limits to the suburbs for a sense of safety. Sure they'll tell you it's because the schools are better or there's more lawn space or the air is cleaner, but in reality it's because the burbs are perceived as gun-free safety zone. That and basically a lot of white people are afraid of folks of ACBW...any color but white. 

We live in the suburbs because we both grew up in boroughs outside the city line. It's what we know. And for the most part it's a quiet, peaceful existence. Okay so the burbs are not immune to the occasional whack-job, hillbilly-like neighbor who insists on storing every broken appliance on his porch because "he'll get to it later" or some random act of teenage mischief. But for the most part it's safe enough to not have forty locks on the front door. Or so I thought...

Today I was driving a mere street away from my humble domicile when I stumbled upon this most horrible crime scene. 

The carnage was so vast Law and Order could use it for one of their "ripped from the headlines" episodes if they could stop retching at the sight of such senseless devastation. What could possess someone to slaughter so many innocent seasonal icons? 

Have they no soul? 

To stab Frosty in the back and leave him to aspirate in a plot of soggy grass. That's just cold, Dawg! 

He's just trying to make the young folk smile, is all. He's made of snow, not blow. And how about his two little buddies...using Stewie Griffin to crack their skulls, and then just toss him on the heap like an old discarded shoe. He may be diabolical, but Stewie's just a baby! What the ef?

And what about Cool Yule Santa? He delivers hopes and dreams to all the tiny boys and girls. What could he have been doing to warrant such an attack? 

Look at his smile. He was obviously enjoying himself when he got whacked...hey, wait a minute. What's that pink thing spread out over "Santa's trap door"? Is that... Is that a--HOOKER? Was CY Santa sampling the Hos? 

Holy Crap!?! 

What the hell? Did my sleepy little hamlet suddenly turn into freaking Blue Velvet?! Eww Eww..is that a severed ear in the grassy knoll? Could these beloved characters have been involved in some unspeakable explicit activities? Here?

Maybe I was all wrong. Maybe I didn't stumble on to a deathly tableau of innocent bystanders. Maybe what I discovered was forced penance from the shimmering blade of justice wielded by a most unlikely source...

Don't mess with Rigid Righteous Santa. That Dude is tough. Ho Ho Ho, mother plucker.

(maybe we should consider moving to the city)

Dude, Where The Ef Are My Videos?!?

or stupid stupid technology 

Okay, so I've returned from vacation with a small problem...well a couple small problems actually. 

For some reason I have not been able to sleep (fall asleep, stay asleep, go back to sleep) for like...four days now. 

What the ef is that about? 

It's not like I've been hammered every night, my alcohol-soaked brain unable to ascertain the need for a nocturnal sleep pattern. Nor have I been having night sweats or some other such "transition years" hideous side effect, no doubt created by the Man to continue the long-suffering of us gals. (I'm not bitter.) My brain just.. will.. not.. SHUT UP!! I'm at the end of my sad, flacid, dangling rope. (which is not to be confused with the much maligned dangling participle, or equally maligned dingly dangs of prior posting) If either case were true, at least there would be a place to start looking for a remedy to my current malady. As it stands, I'm left pleading for sweet release from my higher power. Perhaps I need to wear sexier PJs to attract said deity's attention. 

Moving on...

My other Issue Du Jour is technology related. Namely, iPhoto is toying with me. Mocking my misfortune of being hatched in an era when black and white TVs were all the rage, phones had rotary dials and communications were written on papyrus, sent via slave-driven river barges. Okay...we actually had ponies. 

Anyhoo, last Friday night Geo and I caught the King-Of-All-My-Thangs, Rhett Miller at Maxwell's in Hoboken. Fabulous concert! You sure get your money's worth from this charming fellow. He ripped through 21 songs in a little under 90 minutes. Standing on my perch a mere six feet away, I recorded about four songs in their entirety and a handful of smaller bits of fun banter. I didn't tape more because quite honestly I just wanted to enjoy the show and sing--LOUDLY, which frankly should not be preserved on any tape unless you need to scare away dingos or something.

 I jumped on the computer, my friend (HA!) to upload the photos (including this one of me and the blue-eyed wonder) and the videos ranging from :24 to 4:18. 

tic toc tic toc tic toc 

Ah, done. But wait a minute... Where are the longer videos? What the? 

I tried to load again. Surely there was some sort of disturbance in the matrix during the transfer or something.

tic toc tic toc tic toc  ...infinity

Still no longer videos have imported. They're still on the card. I can see and hear them play through the camera! What the ef?! 

Stupid Stupid Computer!!!!!

*Sigh*  Of course there is no "help" section in iPhoto. I've spent hours caught, knee deep, in the quagmire of Apple "support" and YouTube tutorials. All to no avail. 

In the words of Charlie Brown, "AAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!?!" 

I think I've aged 10 years this afternoon alone. Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi! You're the only one who can save me now. 

Ideas, anyone?

New-ish Song

No time for a proper post today, but thought I'd share this video recorded in Rhett's dining room. Many thanks to Oscar Wednesday. Enjoy!

I promise I'll stop obsessing soon... 

(RMCC: three days!)

The Meaning Of This Particular Christmas 

according to Geo and Murray

So I was out running errands today and got caught in the pre-Christmas shopping madness happening this time of year. Fortunately I was able to skirt around most of the crowds in the stores by knowing exactly what item I needed as well as it's exact location. Otherwise I would still be trapped in the quagmire (giggity giggity) of hypnotized, Zombie shoppers--which would have no doubt rendered me completely irritated and in an unfestive mood.

It got me thinking...there isn't a whole lot of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas yet the entire Western Culture insists on wasting nearly every minute standing in lines, fighting for the latest electronic gaming system and generally stressing out over whether 300 gifts are enough.

The way I see it, the real gift is your kindness towards others...your humor to lift a store clerk's spirit when she's having a bad day...your time to just be there for someone whether you know them or not. Sometimes all it takes is sitting next to a stranger on a random bench and letting them talk. Sometimes listening can be the greatest gift you can give somebody. That's what it's all about, Charlie Brown.

You know my one brother-in-law teases my side of the family for always talking to strangers when we're out. Why not? What else are you going to do while you're waiting in long check out lines, waiting for the bus or hanging out in an airport--get your bowels in an uproar? No thanks. I'd rather talk to people. Everybody has an interesting story.

Besides, we all have waaaaay too much crap.

In this spirit, Geo and I decided this year to do away with most of our material gift giving. Instead we're going to donate the money to charities like Kiva.org (a micro financing organization for third world countries--also listed on my side bar) and Heiffer International (to buy livestock for villages), as well as local charities like the food bank and my church which does a lot of great community work. 

I know what you're thinking...Wha?!? She of the potty-mouth and lewd remarks goes to church? Yes. I have a strong spiritual side. Jesus loves me warts and all. It's in his contract. :D

Other than buying for the five youngsters in our family, we're going to hang out with friends and family during this festive season and be thankful for having them in our lives. Plus, we've started a new tradition where we each find the most hideous thing imaginable in our homes, wrap it up all purty-like and fight over them in a Yankee Swap. It is HI-LARIOUS!! The best part is when the games are all said and done, you can just throw it in the trash without any guilt. 

Helping those less fortunate during these difficult economic times AND guilt free gift tossing, combined with several cocktails and holiday pudding shots...makes for a Happy Holiday indeed.

(Rhett Miller Concert Countdown: 4 days!!)

The Best Non-Reality Reality Show

another fabulous end to the Amazing Race

Oh Man! Tonight was the last episode of the CBS's Amazing Race. For the record, I don't watch reality shows. I think they are stupid and reward the worst of human behavior. I'm talking about you Survivor. However, the Amazing Race is the only legitimate, truly engrossing "reality" show on TV. It's a shame to taint (she said taint) it by calling it a reality show. There are no popularity games or scheming alliances between contestants to bump participants. The objective is purely this, the first team to cross the ultimate finish line wins a million bucks. That's it. 

Along the way the eleven teams travel to different (US friendly) countries, perform some local tasks and traditions via detours or road blocks, and race to each pit stop in an attempt not to be last avoiding elimination. 

Inevitably I get attached to one or two teams. This time around I was routing for the mother/ son team of Toni and Dallas and brother/sister team of Nick and Star. Sadly Toni and Dallas didn't make it to the final three, but Nick and Star were still in the hunt. 

Tonight's episode had me completely, freaking tense!! 

The editors are masters at creating suspense--cutting back and forth between the teams that were neck and neck so you couldn't tell who was ahead; using music to heighten the tension. Crickey! I was totally on the edge of the couch! In the end, it was a taxi race to the finish with Nick and Star the winners. 

I got so involved I actually teared up a bit. I know. I am so lame. But I love when the better team (physically and karmicly) gets rewarded. Although I have to admit, they kinda gave off a creepy "Angelina Jolie-kissing-on-her-icky-brother" vibe in the final hour. 

Eewwwwww. 

I Want To Be A Snow Bird When I Grow Up

or I think Old Man Winter just grabbed my ass?!

Okay so, every year my work buds, Beets, Jude, Suzette and I trek up to the outlet shops about one hour or so North of here to lunch and shop for Christmas. The funny thing is one of us will see something we like and the other will like it too, so we buy it for each other. Right there. In front of each other. We dutifully take the "surprise" gift home, wrap it and exchange it at the Christmas luncheon. Silly, yes. But it's what girls do. 

Anywho, we always end up in the Mecca of gutchie stores, Jockey. There's always some sort of sale in which we have to pull all of our purchases together to take advantage of the discount. Plus we are highly entertained by the men's section displays. Seriously. The photos are outrageously...endowed. 

These boys are packing some major heat. (salutes ...Major Heat-ala How I Met Your Mother) It's like they've got armadillos in their briefs. There was one display that had four styles of briefs, one of which was called the "Paco". I kid you not. Paco. So naturally, our phrase of the day became, "How's your 'taco', Paco?" Yeah, okay you probably had to be there, but trust me it was hilarious. Another girl thang. But I digress...

So I drop off Suzette and realize we were charged for some other chippies gutchie supply. I call them, explain the situation but have to drive all the way back up the next day to have my unmentionables sorted out, so to speak. No big whoop. 

So I drag my sorry ass out of bed at bloody 7am--I'm on vacation mind you--drive up North in record speed, singing (badly) to Old 97's the entire way. (That's my not-so-secret passion...singing loudly in the car. It's like the verbal equivalent of Elaine Benis dancing. I'm sure I look like I'm having a seizure.) Ten minutes later I'm back in the car heading South to pick up Suzette for another round of shopping at Macy's.  

Three hours later, with many gifts in hand including a fabulous Pea coat and shirt bought for each other (again with the girl gift thing--it's an illness in need of a twelve-step program), the weather had turned decidedly unpleasant. The roads were covered with snow that didn't seem too ominous until my ride home.  I passed three tow trucks cleaning up accident messes. 

What the ef?! Did Armageddon strike while we were buying baubles? It really didn't look that bad. Until I got to our hill. 

We live at the bottom of a steep hill. I'm talking like 60 degrees. Okay it's not, but it certainly seems so especially in bad weather. There is absolutely no way around it. You have to go straight up to get out, and straight down to get in. (that's what she said)  There was a Cadillac in front of me on the descent. I stopped near the top to allow further distance between us, you know,  just in case. I threw the car in the lowest gear and started down. Next thing I know I'm starting to slide. Now I live in Urban Suburbia which means roads are tight and there are always cars parked on one side of the street. 

Holy crap! I was not stopping or slowing down. 

Stupid Stupid Ice!! The only course of action was the curb.

BANG!!

Poor Rita. (Yes, we name our cars.) We limped around the corner into the driveway. I fully expected to see a trail of car blood trickling from her front tire teeth. Fortunately there was no visible damage, but one thing was abundantly clear. 

My tires SUCK!! 

Now I have to spend all of Monday at the tire store dropping several hundred bucks we don't have. Joy. It's only December 7th, for ef's sake. *sigh*  Well, at least I'll be able to finish my book.

Seriously, I am totally going to be  a crazy-asssed Northern Snow Bird when I grow up. Screw this weather.

(Rhett Miller Concert Countdown: 5 days!!) 

No News Is Good News

or seven reasons why I love being on vacation...

7. ignoring all local newscasts

6. staying up as late as I want

5. waking up at 5am, mentally flipping the clock the bird and falling back into a satisfying sleep

4. actually eating dinner any time in the evening instead of old-fart "early bird" time

3. sitting down and consuming one of Geo's scrumptious breakfast scramblets...together!

2. having that extra cocktail (or three) after spending a lovely day with Geo

1. shutting off that damn, obnoxiously LOUD alarm clock for one entire, glorious week!! 

(Note: the Hub and I are heading east Tuesday for some sibling bonding time and shopping in NYC. While we're out there we're making a stop in Hoboken to see...RHETT MILLER!!! at Maxwell's. I'm waaaay too excited! Say a little prayer for Geo. He's going to need some extra tolerance (and a huge vat of Salty Dogs) to make it through the evening. :D)